


Botany Is Not An Exact Science

by Prismatic Bell (Nina_Dances_In_Technicolor)



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon
Genre: Anxiety, F/F, First Kiss, Fluff, Love Confessions, May Cause Diabetes, Queer Character, Queer Themes, Self Confidence Issues, There's also a cameo by Venus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-02
Updated: 2014-11-02
Packaged: 2018-02-23 15:36:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2552711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nina_Dances_In_Technicolor/pseuds/Prismatic%20Bell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on a sketch by jellybi from Tumblr: Ami gets some advice from Zoisite. By all sane yardsticks, it should be terrible.</p><p>But then again, nobody said you could measure Ami's life with a sane yardstick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Botany Is Not An Exact Science

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on a sketch jellybi did of Ami and Zoisite as queer best buddies, with Ami moaning about not knowing what to do and Zoisite giving her well-meaning but _terrible_ advice on the basis of his relationship with Kunzite. I decided to write a fic about what happens when Ami decides to listen.
> 
> As a sidenote, I've headcanoned Ami for years as having anxiety disorder, something that only solidified further when I found out that in Stars she actually has _code words_ for situations that make her uncomfortable. You could just read this fic as general nerves, I guess, but it was definitely intended with more there.
> 
> And finally: there is a second short note at the end that'll save you some Google time. Read the fic first, though, because spoilers.

_This is a stupid idea._

It’d sounded great when Zoisite said it, Ami wrapped up in one of his oversized sweatshirts and a pair of socks. But Zoisite’s greatest weapon is his tongue, and sometimes he forgets to put it away.

Granted, it doesn’t take Zoisite’s ideas to leave Ami anxious and stuttering. But, she thinks, on a scale from decently intelligent to moronic on levels only Rei would have the vocabulary for, this ranks somewhere around letting Usagi have a calming glass of wine before giving the most important speech of her entire career.

Jupiter is standing by the front gate. More correctly, Jupiter is leaning by the front gate, because she’s on duty with Jadeite, and while Jadeite isn’t the same kind of small as Zoisite, he’s still smaller than she. Ami plasters on a smile and heads for them, forcing her hands to stay behind her back where she can twist her fingers without exciting comment. 

“Good morning,” she says, and buttresses her smile when Jupiter returns it. Jadeite grunts. Ami tries to remember they need to be patient with him. “Mars isn’t here yet?”

“Venus this morning,” Jupiter tells her. “And back to court for all of us by week’s end, if everything stays quiet.”

“Kunzite’s coming in an hour,” Jadeite interjects, like they might’ve forgotten he’s there. There’s a tone of derision in his voice that Ami’s pretty sure isn’t even conscious anymore. “Staggered scheduling.”

“Yes,” Ami says, and crosses her toes over each other to keep from fidgeting more. “I,” she says, and stutters to a stop at the sound of traffic from across the water. “I wanted to ask if you wanted to go get breakfast,” she manages, and Jupiter smiles.

“Sure, once Venus shows--”

“I’m heeeeeeeeere!”

Jupiter pushes off the wall. “You’re getting as bad as Usagi,” she comments. Venus just beams. 

“I had to stop to get something to eat. Hi, Ami!”

Ami greets her, tries to keep up the smile. It’s not working, and she keeps having the terrible fear there’s something stuck between her teeth. She flossed twice before leaving, but she could have missed something. It’s early. She hasn’t had tea yet. And her glasses weren’t on. At last Jupiter takes her arm.

“Did you have anywhere specific in mind?”

Ami does. She’s spent the last four days researching it. She leaves that part out and, as they cross the palace grounds for the bridge, tells first Jupiter and then Mako about the old-fashioned restaurant only a few blocks from the bridge. Mako’s scarf flutters into Ami’s face, and she laughs. Too shrill. Nerves.

Mako stops in the middle of the bridge. “Ami? Are you okay?”

No. “I’m fine.” Her mouth feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton. Mako is staring at her with concern.

“Are you sure?”

In her head, Ami had a wonderful speech written out for this. About duty bringing them together, but feeling a bond beyond duty from the moment they met. She’d practiced it in the mirror, then in front of Zoisite, who’d asked if people didn’t just give each other fruit anymore--no help there, but she’d managed it in front of an actual--person of humanlike intelligence and manners, if not a human being.

In practice, she hasn’t gotten out a single word and she’s ready to burst into tears. It’s a level of anxious she hasn’t felt since . . . maybe even before the Sailor Senshi. She yanks her hands from behind her back and shoves them toward Mako. “I brought you this.”

_Articulate. You’ll be lucky if she only avoids you for the next hundred years._

Mako takes the rose from Ami’s hand, moving like she’s afraid it’ll grow teeth. One coral rose, wrapped in a fern. Ami doesn’t waste time wondering if Mako will know what it means; she might have spent an hour online being sure she had the meanings down and several more agonizing over which color to pick, but Mako knows her flowers like her own hands. 

_It was Zoisite’s idea,_ she thinks. Then she thinks she could call it a joke, if she could breathe deeply enough to get a sentence out, and then she thinks she couldn’t because she can’t lie to Mako and she can’t think of a crueler jest to make, and then she tries to say _I’m sorry_. The words almost make it off her tongue, and then Mako’s stunned eyes meet hers and she looks away and blinks back tears.

 _It was a_ stupid _idea,_ she thinks, appetite gone, heart somewhere at the bottom of Crystal Lake. The parts of her that don’t feel heavy with grief feel numb in a physical way she’s not sure she could articulate if she tried--like her fingers aren’t her own, and her feet refusing to carry her away because they’ve voted by committee not to accept orders from her brain.

She feels fingers on her cheek, and she’s about to break away and run--she can handle what’s happened, but she can’t handle Mako wiping away her tears--and then there’s a mouth on hers as soft as she’s always imagined it would be, lips gentle, shifting to chase the first full breath she’s managed since delivering her message--all taken in at once and not quite dignified enough to be labeled a gasp. She must, she thinks, look like a house on fire, because her face and arms are suddenly flushed hot.

Mako’s fingers hesitate on Ami’s chin, and Ami stretches onto her toes, puts a hand on Mako’s shoulder for balance. _These were the wrong shoes to wear for this,_ she thinks, and actually smiles a little at the absurdity. She feels Mako’s lips smile against her own and closes her eyes. There are probably people on the far side of the bridge wondering what they’re doing, and probably she should worry about it, but she can worry when there’s no hand on her back and no mouth on hers, sweet and warm and soft.

Mako’s the one who pulls away first, but she does it with her hands on Ami’s waist, and they stare at each other for a moment across a space that holds a universe of its own potential before Mako swoops in and pecks the corner of Ami’s mouth again--quick--light--a promise of things that could be, if they wanted.

“I love it,” she says, and her fingers flutter against Ami’s waist before one arm settles in like it’s always been there. “And you left the water tube on, I’m glad.”

Ami decides not to tell her she’d meant to take it off the bottom of the rose and forgot out of nerves. Instead she reaches for Mako’s other hand with a vague mental note that she has to ask someone who isn’t Zoisite--whose answer would probably involve five-dimensional space--how people manage to walk this way. Probably Usagi. She’s good with romance questions. “I’m glad.”

She feels Mako squeeze her waist as they set foot back on dry land on the Tokyo side.

“Me, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Coral rose: desire. Fern: honesty, sincerity. Single roses are usually arranged with baby's breath, which means "innocence," but Ami's rose has been given without it--which is probably about as forward as you can ever expect Ami to get.


End file.
